


Dear Forgiveness

by hopeless_eccentric



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Other, Post-Episode: s03e13-14 Juno Steel and the Mega-Ultrabots of Cyberjustice, Speculation, Stabbing, believe it or not those tags somehow agree, on that note, this is all a very speculative way of saying hey what if nureyev stabbed juno, wow these are specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_eccentric/pseuds/hopeless_eccentric
Summary: “Do you trust me, Juno?” He heard a voice that was far too small to be his ask.Juno’s face softened.“Nureyev,” he breathed, a smile flickering over his lips. “Of course I do.”There was a gentle kind of disbelief about his face, like he couldn’t believe Peter even felt the need to ask. If there was one thing Juno never was, it was naive. However, the weight of the knife in Nureyev’s pocket contorted that loving expression into tragic innocence.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 24
Kudos: 96





	Dear Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up, i do not and never did stand by this headcanon, this was more an exercise in writing the scenario and want to put it out there. i genuinely think nureyev is, albeit a mess, a good person. on the other hand, he's fun to write being a bastard
> 
> Content warnings for betrayal, blood, stabbing, gore mention

“Do you trust me, Juno?” 

Nureyev had to admit the question came out of left field. Juno raised his head from his comms across the room and met Peter’s grave gaze with his quizzical one. 

“What kind of question is that?” Juno snorted. “I wouldn’t be in your quarters if I didn’t trust you. 

Nureyev only sighed, feeling a bit like a puppet master finding out half their strings were broken. He could tug at the string that made his face compose or yank in desperation at the one that kept his eyes from clouding over, but he felt no movement in response. From that alone, his heart pounded. 

He didn’t like wearing his nerves on his sleeve, but he supposed there was nothing to be done. All he could do was knot his fingers together to better hide their twitching and keep his gaze as far from Juno as possible.

Peter should have been calm. There wasn’t any good reason for him to be nervous. He was in a chair in his own quarters with the love of his life across the room, and nothing particularly bad was happening yet. He tried to let out a breath in silence, but it shuddered from him like it was terrified of the lips it had just passed through. 

“Nureyev, what’s going on?” Juno asked as he cast his comms aside on the bed and strolled over. 

Peter got to his feet, if only to meet Juno there. Juno took him by both hands and squeezed, though the affection did little to quell the anxiety and guilt tearing through his chest like some ravenous, twin-headed beast. 

“Do you love me, Juno?” He heard a voice that was far too small to be his ask. 

Juno’s face softened. 

“Nureyev,” he breathed, a smile flickering over his lips. “Of course I do.”

There was a gentle kind of disbelief about his face, like he couldn’t believe Peter even felt the need to ask. If there was one thing Juno never was, it was naive. However, the weight of the knife in Nureyev’s pocket contorted that loving expression into tragic innocence. 

He broke one of his hands away to rest it upon Juno’s cheek one last time, trying to savor the feeling of the skin below his fingertips forever. Though Nureyev knew the memory of the touch would fade with time, he tried his best to focus on categorizing every detail. He tried to focus on the exact angle of Juno’s cheekbone or the feeling of each and every line under his skin. He was cartographer, mapping a great, beautiful ocean that he navigated by scars, rather than the celestial bodies above. 

“You’re scaring me,” Juno said when Nureyev realized his gaze had lingered far too long. “What’s going on?” 

Nureyev shook his head. 

“Communicate with me here,“ Juno almost groaned.

“If I were to do something truly horrible, would you ever forgive me?” Peter continued slowly, his thumb still tracing tiny arcs over Juno’s cheekbone. 

“Not if you did it without me,” Juno joked, though his smile fell as his gaze flickered down to Nureyev’s tight mouth. 

“Something truly unforgivable,” Nureyev pressed. 

“I’ve been inside your head,” Juno returned. “If you mean patricide or something—I mean, I didn’t really plan on having this conversation now, but what I saw in your head didn’t change—“

“No, not about that,” Nureyev sighed. “If someone were to do something truly awful with no kinder choice, would you blame them?” 

“You can’t keep talking in hypotheticals like this,” Juno replied. “What the hell’s going on?” 

“Would you blame them?” Nureyev insisted. 

Juno let out a breath and shook his head, though in assurance or impatience, Peter could not tell. Nureyev’s hand fell back to his own side once more, though the other still held tight as if it were attempting to weather through an injury. 

“I guess it would depend on what they had to do,” Juno shrugged. “And if they just didn’t look hard enough for another option.” 

Nureyev felt his stomach drop, but firmly managed to keep it out of his facial expression. He had searched for other options, he told himself. He’d been doing so for almost a year, though his alternative routes had picked up higher and more important death tolls as time progressed. 

“Juno,” Peter tried to say in a way that would do those two cruelly pleasant syllables justice. “Could I, perhaps, ask a favor of you?” 

“What kind of favor?” Juno returned slowly. 

Nureyev had heard mistrust in his voice before, but hearing Juno speak to him as if he were Rex Glass or Duke Rose or that poor hopeless romantic who had placed his greatest asset, and now, greatest weakness in the hands of a detective he accidentally fell for. To hear it in his voice now, after months of serious courtship felt like a jagged-nailed hand tearing into his chest and seizing around his esophagus. 

“Please kiss me,” Nureyev heard himself say, voice shaking with as much honesty as he would ever allow himself to show. Thankfully, Juno complied, and he didn’t have to worry about hiding anything for long. 

He wished he could say the kiss was earth-shattering, or that Juno’s lips rewrote history to the tune of the ever-humming oxygen machines. However, it was no softer or sweeter than any other time their lips met. Nureyev supposed that was for the best. It wasn’t a particularly special kiss, but for a last kiss, Peter supposed it wasn’t half bad. 

Nureyev wondered if Juno could feel his heart panicking against their met chests. If he did, he showed no sign of it. 

“I’m sorry,” Nureyev breathed in the same moment Juno gasped, doubling over into his arms. 

Peter withdrew his gore-streaked knife from Juno’s abdomen and tucked it back within his belt, though he kept a steadying hand on Juno’s shoulder all the while. 

“You—” Juno choked out, the worlds bleeding away from is lips when Peter’s ginger touch led him to the ground. 

“Don’t move too much,” Nureyev murmured. He knew well if he continued to speak, he wouldn’t have to hear Juno’s gasping sputter. “Don’t follow after me.” 

Juno didn’t know that Nureyev’s careful blade sank into the spot that would bleed the most and heal the quickest. All he knew was pain and the sharp, heady smell of his own blood and the feeling of Nureyev’s lips on his forehead. 

He wanted to throw Nureyev away, but only found his hand shaking its way towards the side of Peter’s face. Something bitter flashed through his wide, unblinking eyes. 

Somewhere past the injury and choking, iron-stained smell, he felt Nureyev guide his head to the floor with tender hands still splattered with Juno’s blood. Peter turned to walk away though every step seemed to drag a thousand miles upon the floor. 

“Nureyev,” Juno sputtered. 

With one hand upon the frame of the doorway, Nureyev turned, his mouth falling ajar as he searched for something to say. Juno couldn’t help but remember the darkened doorway of a cheap hotel room on a planet a million miles away. 

Nureyev’s shoulders sagged as eyes, once bright, now tired, meandered over where he had left Juno bleeding on the floor. 

Once it seemed he couldn’t bear it any longer, he turned, leaving the door cracked. Juno listened to his hurried footsteps bleeding away until the distance became too great and the even taps of footfalls died away entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> nureyev, knife deep in juno: what can i say im a scorpio
> 
> writing this one was so much fun ngl. just like throwing popcorn at my computer screen and going AWW DOES BITCHBOY HAVE MORAL QUALMS ABOUT STABBING HIS PARTNER? 
> 
> thank you all so much for reading!! Make sure to SMASH that kudos button and leave a comment down below or else I'll eat tuna near you
> 
> check out my tumblr @hopeless-eccentric and my twitter @withane22 !!


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